


Aos Si, or The Handmaiden of Moondoor

by undersail2013



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ace SPN Week, Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Asexuality Spectrum, Everyone is Asexual, F/F, NaNoWriMo, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5247020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undersail2013/pseuds/undersail2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Defending Moondoor from the Summerlands is no easy task, even if you're Dena of Winchester and have the love of a beautiful angel and the support of the Queen.  A misandrist adventure set in the fae realms, featuring a motley crew of supernatural hunters and villains. </p><p>Part of my first and as-yet-unfinished nanowrimo attempt, being published here in celebration of Ace SPN Week...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aos Si, or The Handmaiden of Moondoor

**Author's Note:**

> The title AOS SI comes from the ancient words for the fair folk in Irish folklore. Wikipedia gives the pronunciation as "ace shee." This is significant, because every character you encounter here is ace-spectrum, and almost everyone is female (e.g. Cas is they/them, as are a few characters we'll meet later). Or at least, not cis male. You're welcome.
> 
> Source material: aside from SPN canon, I have also drawn liberally from Irish and Russian folklore and from the White Wolf RPG Changeling: the Dreaming, and you'll probably detect more than a whiff of Tolkien... But take my descriptions with the same bag of salt with which the writers turned the Russian forest spirit leshii into Paris Hilton...
> 
> In regards to the unfinished nature of this work, I hope to complete it, um, eventually. I have another 10K written and at least another 10K to go (I just don't have 50K in me, sorry)... November is a terrible time for writing and December worse still, but maybe by January, I'll have a few updates ready!

The angel alighted softly in the deep umbra, avoiding a patch of silver moonlight.  They crept quietly through the camp, absentmindedly assessing the sleeping forms as they passed.  The healer in them couldn’t help unconsciously checking for injuries and symptoms.  They had not been gone so long, though, and was relieved to find everyone well and resting peacefully.  Well, almost everyone. 

“Hello, Dena.”

The woman at the fire startled.  “Geez, Cas!  You gotta stop sneaking up on me like that!”

“Apologies.  I assumed you were on watch.”

Dena shifted. “Well, yeah, okay. So I am.  The brewpot boiled over and I got distracted.  For a minute.”

A smile spread across Cas’ face.  “I’m not judging you, you know.”

“I know,” Dena replied, a similar grin lighting her face.  “C’mere, you!”  She wrapped her arms around the angel’s solid shoulders, pulled them close until their lips touched hers.  “I missed you,” she murmured between kisses.

“I missed you, too.”  Their hands rested on Dena’s slim hips, still but firm, content.  After a moment, Cas straightened.  “I’m distracting you.”

Dena planted one last kiss on Cas, then resumed her work at the fire.  “Can I interest you in a cup?” She poured two without awaiting an answer.

“Of course.”  Cas took the offered brew and sipped it politely.  “I have a report.  It seems the unseelie court are-”

“Can it wait until morning?  Claire had last watch, and Jo’s up in an hour.  They’ll want to hear what’s going on.”  Cas nodded, but a doubt remained.  “What’s that look, Cas?”

They shook their head.  “It’s nothing, just.  I’m not certain that I wasn’t followed.”

Dena laughed.  “By what, a shadow?  Seems unlikely!”  Cas shrugged and walked away from the fire, gaze turned out into the night.  

 

An owl called ominously in the dark; Dena shivered.  “If you’re sure, we’ll break camp.  We’ve had a quiet few days since you left, everyone’s rested and fed and as healed as ever.”  Cas said nothing more, and presuming herself relieved of the watch, she busied herself by making more brew and packing all the provisions but a few biscuits for the others to eat on the march.  She pulled down a few garments cast on branches to dry and folded them into her own pack.  She debated dousing the fire and decided against it: Tracy would get a bit jumpy if she awoke in the dark.  No wonder, really, after what she’d been through.  Kidnapped by knockers, dragged into the mines, left down there to-.  Dena shuddered.  No, the fire stays lit.  Better to leave a false beacon anyway.  Maybe. 

Maybe all of this was an abundance of caution.  After all, Cas was back.  Cas would protect them. 

 

Some grumbling about stealing off in the middle of the night gave way to muffled cheers that Cas had returned.  Jo in particular leapt up and squeezed them tightly, arms trapped at their side, until Cas looked helplessly to Dena to beg assistance.  Dena chuckled, gently swatting Jo’s shoulder with a “Down, girl!  Get your own!”  Jo backed off with a mischievous look and bounced away to ready her pack.  Alex shook their hand solemnly, as did Linda and Jody, welcoming Cas back with a very few words.  Charlie, barely pausing amongst the bustle of preparations, merely smiled at the way Dena’s face had softened since Cas’ return.  Even Cas could see it.  There was a joke around the camp about Cas and their inability to recognize fae emotion, but they were not so oblivious.  They could always read the Queen’s love for her friends, and the difference Cas’ presence made in Dena’s entire demeanor was palpable.  Body and soul, Dena glowed.

Dena sent the girls away a few at a time.  Jody and Donna packed quickly and moved east first, followed by the Wayward Sisters a few moments later.  The Chamber’s Daughters pursued a more northerly path, while Kevan and her mother headed south.  A few of the doughtiest fighters picked their way through the woods running alongside the western foothills, with stern instruction not to cross the old riverbed that marked the beginning of the ancient border with the Summerlands, while a steady trickle travelled as stealthily as possible through the eastern trees. 

A few coded words of encouragement from the Fearless Leader ensured that they would all meet again in a few days’ time at the appointed place, though Charlie worried.  “Dena, is it wise to split the party?  If what Cas fears is true, would it not be better to keep close and troop north as one?”

She lifted one finger, dug in her pack for a moment, and pulled out an innocuous looking purse.  She pulled the drawstrings and expanded the purse out into a complicated series of folded maps.  “We’re here,” pointing to a red patch.  “From what Cas told me while the girls were packing, they’re pretty sure that something, probably unseelie, caught up with them here,” indicating a paisley swirl corresponding with the mountains to the southwest.  “They investigated rather than continue on and lead an unfriendly into camp, but look here.” She re-folded the map to show a more detailed view of the mountains.  “Just here, they found a settlement.  Long extinct, of course, but there were humans there once.  And where we find humans-“

“We find evil.  Right.”  The Queen sighed.  “You’re right, of course.  I just worry.”

“So do I, kiddo.  But the girls know what they’re doing.” 

“They were trained by the best,” Charlie beamed.

Dena let the compliment slide with a doubtful smirk.  “We’ll all meet at the Nordling publick house, safe and sound.”

“Possibly,” grumbled Cas, crouched at the fireside and staring moodily into the flames.  If Dena and Charlie heard, they made no remark.

 

***

 

As soon as Kevan and her mother were clear of the camp, Linda looked back.  “Finally.”  She grabbed her child by the arm and led her into the deep woods.  “The Queen and her party will undoubtedly come this way to further obscure their intention of going north.  We have to get off the main path.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re going to see the witch’s daughter.”

“Mom, no.  The witch’s daughter?  We can’t!  She’ll eat us alive.”

“The two of us are more clever than any witch.  A mere human?”

Kevan stopped and shook herself out of her mother’s grip.  “No, I won’t go.  And you shouldn’t either.  You know what they say about her!”

Linda frowned.  “That’s he-fae talk.  Even if she is a fallen angel, I think I can handle her.  Castiel is an angel and I watched you best them in sparring just a fortnight ago.”

“Cas is differen-“

“She can get us into the Summerlands.”

Kevan felt like she’d had the wind knocked out of her.  She struggled for words.

Her mother looked triumphant.  “See?  I know you will acquiesce to this side trip now.”

She looked up, eyes wide and incredulous.  “What makes you think I would set foot in the Summerlands? SHE left us.”

Ignoring, or perhaps not seeing her daughter’s distress, Linda continued.  “Crowley has connections there.  Maybe she is an angel.  Was.  Whatever the case, we can make her give us safe passage to the prince.”

Kevan straightened and advanced on the older woman.  “One, she’ll want payment.  The witch’s daughter does not grant favors.”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it,” she smirked.

Her daughter rolled her eyes at that.  “Two, the prince doesn’t need rescuing.  She made that abundantly clear.”

“She was under compulsion.”

“Even were that true, Mother, her own SISTER has given her up!  When is the last time you heard Dena clamoring for a rescue party?”

Linda fell silent. 

“If Dena is satisfied with the situation, then so am I.  Sam doesn’t need us, and I don’t need her either.”

The air crackled with the hostility between them, but Linda simply couldn’t take no for an answer when a yes was necessary for her child’s wellbeing.  She often claimed that Kevan was the only reason that she remained on campaign when she could have left the camp ages ago, but the truth was, she was too stubborn to give up command; controlling Kevan’s life was just a perquisite of the position. 

“Dena has given up.”

“They nearly broke her.  She won’t even talk about it.  I doubt the Queen knows what really happened in the mines.”

Linda softened.  “Do you think Crowley will sell you to the miners?  Is that why you resist my idea?”

“No.  I just think it’s a bad idea, is all.  Dena and the Queen know what they’re doing.”

“Say they do.  Say they troop the whole camp up to the prince’s palace.  Say they all get slaughtered with nothing to show for it.”

“I’ll be there with them, just in case, she-“  Kevan shut her mouth, but too late.

“You still love Sam,” Mom asked gently.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she whispered, “Of course I do.”

She felt her mother’s arms envelop her.  “My child.  We’ll get her back.  Humor me, please?  Let’s talk to the witch’s daughter, just to see if she can help.  The Queen need never know.”  She stepped back, tipped Kevan’s chin upwards.  “For Sam?”

Kevan nodded bleakly. “For Sam.”

 

They picked their way through the southern woods.  Though the sun had begun to rise, the path before them grew ever darker.

The path, if such it could be called, ended at a series of rocky mounts, overgrown with coarse briars.  Thorns ripped at their robes; the thin gauze of their capes hung in tatters.  Here there was sun, but a fierce one that beat down upon them and reddened their exposed necks and faces.

"You're sure this is the right way, Mom?" Kevan called as she struggled to the top of her fifth giant boulder.  Her fingernails bled from scrabbling for purchase in bare rock.  Her shoes, thick leather boots that should have lasted many more campaigns, showed signs of wear at the tips of her toes.  

Her mother looked no less weary and worn, but she refused to be defeated.  She stood atop her rock and calculated the best route.  "Your eyes are better than mine.  Look to the horizon, south-southwest.  Do you see a curl of smoke?"

Kevan shaded her eyes and followed her mother's gaze.  She groaned.  "Yes.  I do.  She can't be that far away, can she?"

Linda did not respond; she leapt lightly to a neighboring rock, then another.  "Keep up, dear."

 

The Queen and her companions set off from camp at a quick march, but sunrise had yet to reveal the southern travelers.  

"Charlie, we'll find them," Jo commented as she plucked a handful of rowan berries.  She popped a berry into her mouth and another into Charlie's.  "And if we don't, they know where to rendezvous."

She wanted to believe her, but she didn't like what she saw in Dena and Castiel's deep conversation, aways off and seemingly in private.  "They're not so sure."

"Dena and Cas?"

Charlie nodded.  "See how they stand with their backs to us?  That's not deference; that's what secrets look like."

"I can call them back."

"No, leave them.  Dena trusts Cas, more than she trusts me.  Maybe more than I trust you," she teased.  Jo nudged her shoulder.  Charlie stole a kiss and smiled, lost for a moment in her partner's bright eyes.  Her flaxen hair gave her a sort of halo in this light.  The thought of halos brought her back to Castiel.  "Cas has senses we can't even imagine.  They know things.  And they tell Dena everything."  She glanced back to the two in consultation, now standing considerably closer, their discussion more obviously tender than heretofore.  Her face softened; her friend had overcome so much to find her happiness.  To see her so well loved by the angel made her own heart swell with affection.  "We'll have a report from them anon, my love," and turned her attention again to the sweetest lips in Moondoor.

 

Sometime after midday, the terrain changed again, to a flat expanse of tall dry grasses.  Linda and Kevan rested briefly in the shadow of the last of the boulders.  Refreshed, they braved the field and made for the trees.  No sooner had they stepped into the shelter of the ancient oaks, they found themselves on the edge of a wide round clearing.  Just beyond, almost concealed by the trees on the far end, Kevan observed a strange house on stilts.  

Her mother stepped into the clearing.

"Mom, no," she whispered, "it could be a trap."

She made no reply, only lifting her arms and chanting, "Little hut, little hut, turn to face me." 

From across the clearing, Kevan watched unbelieving as the house on stilts- not stilts. Chicken legs!  The house walked, on chicken legs, out of the trees and stood with an air of offended arrogance before its summoner.  

A voice called down to the warriors from within the hut.  "What the hell do you want?"

Linda tried to peer up into the house.  "Are you the witch's daughter?"

"Good god, why does everyone insist on calling me that?" the voice grumbled.  "My mother, so she claims, has been dead for three hundred years, and still it's 'The Witch's Daughter.'  Like I haven't got a bloody good evil reputation of my own."  She paused.  "Well, if you're not going to apologize, sot off."

"We need your help," Linda continued, not heeding the voice's complaints.  "Come down here or let us in."

"Since you asked so nicely, NO."

"I can compel you."

There was a longer pause, a heavy sigh, and then the sound of heeled boots on wooden floorboards.  The face that appeared in the doorway surprised Kevan: the voice was gruff and coarse, but the face remarkably younger than she had expected.  Also she had a lovely beard, trim and neat.  She squinted down at the visitors.  "No, you can't.  But I'll let you in anyway.  You've got spunk."  The hut sank to its knees and allowed the two women to cross the threshold.  

Even through the thick accent and thicker sarcasm, Kevan felt that this was a dangerous being.  A reputation for evil, she could well believe.  Was there kindness enough in this woman to get their Sam back?

"And it's Crowley."  She poured herself a brown liquor from a square bottle and sipped at it primly but offered none to her guests.  In answer, Linda helped herself to a glass of the stuff, knocking it back easily.  The witch's daughter smirked and raised her glass an inch in salute.  "So, what can I refuse to do for you ladies?"

"We understand you have connections to the Summerlands.  We want the prince returned to Moondoor."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "The prince?  You overestimate my influence."

"You underestimate my intelligence."

"Even if I could, surely the Queen wouldn't send her warriors to grovel at the feet of some ragged old ... witch's daughter."  She tilted her head.  "She doesn't know you’re here."

A silence fell.

"I thought the Queen had given up on this mission.  After sending her handmaiden into the mines on that flimsy deal-"

"It wasn't the Queen who made that deal!  It was-"

Crowley turned to find Kevan flushed, properly roiled.  "Dena of Winchester is a fool.  A fool and a cheat.  She thought she could flake out on her debts.  Let me tell you something," she nearly shouted, "I brokered that deal.  I'm on the hook for that, that manipulative scag, and her escape is on MY head!"  She composed herself with some difficulty, eventually managing a breezy, "What do you care anyway?"

Kevan lifted her chin defiantly.  "Sam is mine.  She was not theirs to take in the first place."

Crowley sneered.  "Like that's worth a hill of magic beans," she muttered, pouring another drink.  "Listen, dear, they've got her so turned around, she wouldn't remember her own name if they didn't want her to.  Let alone you.  It's not worth the aggravation, pet.  Find a new mate."

"No!"  She found herself face to face with the witch's daughter and her mother bodily holding her back before she realized she had moved.  She dropped her hands, twisted into claws, and balled up her fists instead.  "You're wrong.  You want me to think that so you don't have to help."

"I don't have to help," she shrugged.  "As we've already established, I can be of no service, and you," she scoffed, "you have nothing to offer me anyway."

"I do."  

"Mom.  Leave it."

"I do," she repeated.

Intrigued, Crowley gestured for her to continue.

"But first, can you help?"

Crowley rolled her eyes.  "This negotiation is taking forever!  Get to the point, woman."

"Can you help?"

She hedged.  "I might have a way in, if the price is right."

"To Sam?"

"It's always a gamble with these things.  Low chance of success in the best of circumstances."  To Kevan, she purred, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained, am I right?  What's a little risk to true love?"

Kevan looked helplessly at her mother, who stepped forward.  "I offer you my soul."

At this, Crowley outright laughed.  "Don't be stupid: fae don't have souls."  Her mirth died when she looked again at her visitor.  She leaned forward, peering intently.  "You're a changeling.  Fuck me, you're a BLOODY CHANGELING!"

"Are you in or out?" she insisted.

"No one's 'in,'" snarled a rough voice.  The angel clapped their hands on each woman's shoulder and suddenly they were transported to a small orchard of rowan.

 

"Castiel, what have you done?" Linda shrieked.

"What have you done?" shouted Dena.  "Sneaking away from your camp to make deals with the devil?  If the Queen doesn't send you back home in disgrace, I will personally-"

"Dena."  Charlie laid a gentle hand on her raised forearm.  "Go make your bed.  I'll handle this."

"Crowley, though, Charlie!  You know what-"

The Queen spoke soothingly.  "I know very well, and I won't have you agitating yourself.  I will handle this; you will sleep.  Next march will come soon, and you must rest.  Go to your angel and let them comfort you."

Dena bowed and did as her Queen commanded.  But she sincerely doubted there would be rest with the specter of Crowley hanging over her head. 

 

***

 

As is the way with these tales, it began with a prophecy: “A daughter of Winchester in the line of Cain will bring to the fae realms darkness and pain.”  Seers have long sight and poor perspective.  The prophecy lapsed into legend within a few generations, and there being no such place as Winchester in the fae realms, the phrase came to be a sort of idiom, akin to the Moondoor proverb, “Imagined fears will only bring tears.”

The phrase fell out of favor when the old Queen accepted the changeling orphans from the witch’s daughter.  Some of the more superstitious folk questioned the wisdom of bringing these strange creatures into their midst.  Queen Celeste argued that the prophecy simply gave them more reason to raise the children away from evil influences, and the matter was quite settled.

 

***

 

They came in the night for an infant.  Was that real or a dream?

Dena and Sam had grown up in the old Queen's household, romping with Charlie and the others as kids do, learning warrior ways through pretend-play.  Charlie should have been in charge during those childhood assays on treeforts and four-poster palaces, but she was happy even then to cede control to her dear Dena, especially when it left her more time to stare at her most dear Jo.  The pattern stuck.  Charlie learned the art of war, but Dena embodied it, growing into a martial intuition for campaigning that hadn't been seen (nor needed) in several generations.  And the fae of Moondoor have long lives and longer memories.

Dena was never quite sure how the idyll of childhood had unraveled so quickly, so completely.   The young Queen and her friends had begun patrolling in earnest.  Sam was barely of age and deeply in love with Kevan, so no one thought to investigate the character of the girl from the Summerlands.  

A refugee, she called herself, but a refugee from what?  The politics of the Summerlands were no more remarkable than those of Moondoor.  Ruby was accepted almost without question into the camp, in accordance with the liberal policy of friendship and hospitality prevailing in the realm in those days.  She was placed under Dena's command.  In hindsight, she should have been more suspicious of Ruby's habit of insinuating herself into Sam's patrol, but women did that all the time, whether to be closer to a lover or to a favorite sparring partner, usually both.  And yet, Dena never could determine the object of her affections, unless it be Sam herself.  Had she truly imagined Ruby in love with Sam, she would have pitied her; Sam was sworn to Kevan

That Sam would abandon not only Kevan but the Queen, her sister, everyone she loved, was unfathomable.

The memory of the night still burned like a fresh wound, but even the most acute pain blurs around the edges.  Some details stood stark in her mind, while others she remembered with her whole body.  The rest had faded into the thin grey haze of nightmares.

Some noise had awakened Dena in the night.  Wakened from a dream permeated by the smell of Ash's skin.  This same scent lingering in the first blush of consciousness.  She inhaled like she'd never be here again, warm and safe in her lover's arms.

Another noise, this one more familiar, and she was on her feet.  Sam's sword from its scabbard.  Such a small sound, but unmistakable.  She could see nothing but blackness, but her ears told the tale: a scuffle near Sam's quarters!  She didn't remember finding a weapon, she didn't remember crossing the camp; how did the commotion not wake the others?  Her stomach in knots as Sam stood surrounded by unknown figures in strange attire.  Armor, but not like any she'd seen before: matte, unreflective despite the crisp moonlight and still even in the autumn breeze.  Get away from my sister, she must have shouted, leave this place!  Kevan appearing from nowhere, clutching at Sam's clothing, words exchanged; Sam shoving her to the dirt and striding into the darkness.  Ruby at the back of the train glancing back on their bewilderment, her gloating smile lit from below making her look every inch a demon.

Dena pursuing blind in the dark woods, soon lost in the unfamiliar terrain beyond the Summerlands border.  She could still feel the crunch of gravel under her knees as she collapsed at the crossroads, unable to discern their path, the burn at the back of her throat from screaming herself hoarse, calling her sister's name.  The woman in black extending her hand and helping Dena to her feet.  Where had she come from?  Disoriented, delirious, Dena could recall almost nothing she had said to her then, except "If the angels want her, she's as good as dead to you."  She knew not to accept help from the witch's daughter, but she couldn't watch her sister stolen away to an uncertain fate.  She demanded to trade places.  Surely they wanted the elder sister; there was some mistake.  If for a dark purpose, there was more darkness in Dena than in Sam.  

Was it mercy or cunning that prevented the witch's daughter from dealing with Dena that night in the crossroads?  A promise was made to meet again at the new moon.  At the sound of a search party advancing, the woman pressed a red carnation into Dena's hand and vanished.

Intelligence came into camp on the third day: far from complying with diplomatic requests for the return of a well-loved and decorated warrior of the Queen's guard, the emissaries from the Summerlands informed their counterparts that the western realms would henceforth be subject to the rule of Sam of Winchester, rightful ruler under the authority of no one quite knew who.  Furthermore, these same emissaries immediately begged for asylum.  

The Queen, bound by protocol and ancient politics, could only amass such intel as her diplomats were willing to acquire.  Those who crossed the border did not return; no new envoys sprung up to take their place.  The corps evaporated in a single season.

Dena was wild in her grief for her sister.  She begged Charlie to send her to the palace.  "If I could speak with her!  She must know what is happening!  She would tell me everything she knows!"  But she refused.  She could not bear to send her friend to her death.  She suspected some deep magic, but without proof, she lacked the courage to collect proof, and so the situation must stagnate.

On the day of the new moon, Dena and Ash quarrelled.  Even now, Dena remembered the deception with a pang.  Dena feigned irritation in order to assure that she slept alone that night, though it tore at her.  Leaving Ash forever was quite hard enough without pining for a last embrace.  Her heart in tatters, she stalked out of camp unobserved by the night watch, absorbed in sharpening her blade.

Back at the crossroads, she withdrew the carnation from her satchel.  "Hello?" she whispered.  

"You're a fool, you know."  

The voice came from behind and made her jump.  "Take me to my sister."

"I could do that.  But then what?  She tosses aside her crown and the two of you walk back home, happily ever after?"

"Then I'll take her place.  I've heard the stories already.  The old family left.  The Summerlands are a hell.  The knockers' strike killed it.  There was anarchy and blood in the streets until the decision was made to install a figurehead prince.  Sam is- Sam is too good for this.  Let me take her place!"    

 The woman clucked her tongue.  "You're asking me to void a perfectly valid contract."  

Confused, Dena shook her head.  "What contract?"  

"God, you're thick. Don't you wonder why it should be Sam, the younger sister, and not the elder?  She took your place, you dunderhead."

"No.  That's not right.  Why would she-"

"DENA!"

She inhaled sharply.  She had let herself get lost in memories she never allowed herself to acknowledge.  The crossroads and all that came after were far behind her.  

Cas sat beside her in the grass.  "Dena?"  They touched her cheek, and she felt the muscles there relax.  Her jaw hurt.  She looked down and forced herself to unclench her fists, flexing her hands a few times.  "It's time to move on."

"I'm okay," she volunteered.

"You're not okay."

She rubbed her face, waking up the skin, freshening her thoughts after the dark reverie.  A kiss from Cas cleared the rest of the smoke from her vision and she breathed deeply.  "I am now."

"No one is sending you back."

Dena flashed half a smile.  "Thanks, Cas."

"Don't mention it.  We have more pressing concerns without pursuing old grudges. If the witch's daughter knows where we are, we could have spriggans on our trail, or worse."

"Right."  She let Cas help her to her feet, then folded them to her with a whispered "Thank you."

Cas kissed her then, long and slow.  Pulling back, they grinned.  "I love you, too."

From up the embankment, the two heard a sharp whistle.  "Come on, you two, let's go," urged Jo.  Hers was the only smiling face of those gathered on the road.

 

***

 

Jody and Donna led the way to the eastern safehouse in Nebraska Hollow.  There they intended to collect the other eastbound warriors before marching north under Charlie’s banner. 

The first part, collecting the girls, proved easy enough.  If only the Queen would appear.

When they first arrived, they were met by the house mother, Ellen.  She and Donna managed the accommodations for half a campful of soldiers in the rambling old manor house.  Meanwhile, Jody sought out another resident to talk strategy. 

Some years ago, Ash had pledged herself to the goddess as a hearthwatcher.  Supposedly Ash had endured some terrible tragedy and refused to return to camp.  Charlie had been sorry to lose her quick mind and easy spirit, but there was no reversing the vow. 

For her part, Jody liked Ash, but there was something about her that made her wonder how she could have ever handled camp life.  She seemed particularly soft, fragile even.  This, from a woman who had come to campaigning after her own personal tragedy.  How strange to sit at home with the men, the boys, the old women, and with no one to care for!  She had petitioned the crown for a spot in the camp, and the opportunity felt like a second chance at life. 

“You heard this from the angel?” Ash asked, curious.

“Yeah.  They had more to tell, but Dena made the decision to break up the camp to throw off any unwanted company.”

“Dena.”  Ash nodded.  She turned her face away, busying herself with some old maps on the table behind her.  “That’s Dena all over.  Which direction did she go?”

Jody hesitated before admitting that she had gone south.

“And the Queen, too, then.”

“You know something I don’t?”  Jody felt a pang of alarm.  Secrecy was a priority even here.  Why should this hearthwatcher demand such precise intel?

“No, of course not.  I was just- I don’t get a lot of word about Dena these days, which is of course-”  She took a deep breath and met Jody’s eyes again.  She must have realized the suspicions she raised, because when she spoke again, it was with chin tipped defiantly upward.  “I recognize Dena’s methods, that’s all.  She and I have a history, you know?”

Jody blinked.  “That was you?” she blurted.  Catching Ash’s glare, she immediately apologized, mortified. 

“Yeah, that was me.  I’m the one who lost her marbles after Dena sold her soul to the knockers.”

“That’s not what I meant!  I mean-“

Ash waved off any further discussion and went back to her maps.  “All in the past.  I’m happier here anyway.  From all accounts, Dena came back changed.  I probably wouldn’t know her now.  Ah, here it is,” she added, flourishing a map of the valley.

Jody applied herself to the map, assessing the best route to get the largest number of sidhe past the flatlands while attracting the least notice, asking questions here and there.  She came from a village in the far north and had little familiarity with this region, but Jody had a clever mind and a good natural sense of direction.  They decided to stay in the valley for another league before climbing the ridge and sidestepping a deeper cleft to the west.  “Alex and I will take half of the girls at dawn on the day after tomorrow, and Claire will lead the stragglers with Donna the next day.”

“Wait until after the sun has risen, or you’ll be in darkness until noon.  Claire should leave around midday if she takes the same route.”

Jody agreed and started to leave.  At the door, she turned and tried to apologize again before being shooed away rather forcefully.

 

Dena was coming to the safehouse.  Would she avoid Ash?  Would Ash avoid Dena?  Ash shook her head, pushing away too many painful thoughts.  It wasn’t Ash that had lost her mind; Dena threw herself away, chasing down a sister gone dark, and she burnt many a bridge along the way.  Her abandonment had hurt Ash more than anyone, and Charlie had done everything she could to help Ash heal.  But there was nothing left for her in camp after that.

When she got word that Dena was saved, she was already apprenticed to Ellen and beyond the reach of any mortal heart. 

 

The house was in chaos on the day of departure.  Even with Jody and Alex a day’s march ahead, the din of so many women clamoring to pack, eat, be gone made the very beams ring.  Donna thanked her lucky stars that Claire had the command of this lot; she had her hands full just ensuring that everyone had a cloak covering her armor and not the other way around.  How they’d gotten stuck with all the young folk was beyond her, with Jody so much better skilled at whipping the chatty ones into shape. 

Eventually, they were all out the door and quietly processing towards the ridge.  Whatever disorder was in them had been left in the safehouse, thank goodness, and Donna had nothing to worry about except where to place her foot on the rough spots.  They walked quickly even as they minimized the number of tracks by keeping to the footsteps of the girl ahead. 

When they reached the ridge, Donna looked back to be sure she was the last and frowned at a plume of black smoke rising in the direction they had come.  She’d mention it to Claire later; there was nothing to be done now but to press on.

 

***

 

Dena directed the Queen’s entourage to a small campsite hidden in a stand of ancient yews.  She and Cas swept the cave for dangers and inspected the old boundaries.  This camp had not been used except by scouts for more than a century, and Dena had been among the last scouts to come this way back when she was a young soldier.  Satisfied, she set about building a fire and ordering the night’s accommodations.  To save time in the morning, they erected no tent, but Dena fussed over the arrangement of the bedrolls.

“You think they’ll leave?” Cas asked quietly, watching Dena work.

She nodded.  “Kevan looks unsettled.  And Linda.  Linda is always a flight risk, especially where her child is concerned.” 

“I could enforce the boundaries.”

“No, she’s not a prisoner.”  Dena gazed to the fireside where the women in question sat crouched, deep in their own conversation.  “Charlie!”  She snagged her hem as she passed, arresting her movement.  She stood and positioned herself between Charlie and the fire.  “What do you see over there?”

Charlie peeked around Dena’s head and frowned.  “Conspirators.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.  I have them in the center of the camp,” pointing at the bedrolls.  “Neither has watch tonight, either.  You, Jo, me?”

The Queen nodded.  “Good.”

Dena clapped her hands together and moved in the direction of the fire.  “Time to see what’s for dinner,” she announced, too loudly.  “Who’s hungry?”

 

Kevan couldn’t sleep.  She recognized the sleeping arrangements as a preventive measure.  Her heart ached.  She couldn’t leave Charlie, couldn’t abandon camp a second time, not without extreme repercussions.  Assuming their plan worked and she saved Sam and everything returned to the way it had been, would she be allowed to return?  Would she be branded a deserter?

The plan was shaky at best.  Too many variables.  If she and her mother could get away unseen, if they found the witch’s daughter again, if Crowley agreed to take them to Sam.   If Crowley could take them to Sam.  That was the biggest question of all.  It felt like a scam, too good to be true. 

On the other hand, if it worked.  Sam would come home.  Kevan would be a hero, sure; Mom liked that angle.  But she would happily make herself the villain if it meant having Sam at her side.  She felt like half of her was missing.  She had lived with the sorrow for almost ten years now and her grief had only intensified. 

Involving Crowley had been her mother’s idea.  Kevan wasn’t sure that she was prepared to risk everything quite yet.  Or perhaps the only way forward was through the fire.

She sighed.  There was always another option.  If she could not accept Sam’s loss by continuing to campaign, perhaps it was time to retire.  A quiet role as a hearthwatcher.

Kevan wrestled with the idea until Jo nudged Dena to take the watch.  She waited while Dena settled herself, back warmed by the fire, a mug of brew in both hands.  Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, Kevan crept towards her.

“What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Dena hummed.  “Long march east tomorrow.” 

“I know.”  She hesitated.  “Dena?”

“Yeah, Kevan?”

“Can I ask you about, Ash?”  Kevan winced to hear the intake of breath the name occasioned.  “I’m sorry, you don’t have to-“

She shook her head.  “No, it’s fine.  May I ask why?”

“I think I want to be a hearthwatcher.”

“Where did this come from?”

“I was just thinking.  Maybe being here only makes it hurt worse.  Maybe if I gave up campaigning, I could forget.”

Dena handed her mug to Kevan.  “Here, you’re shivering.”  She started a fresh batch.  Kevan could tell she was stalling, but she drank in silence.  Setting the pot to boil, she returned her attention to Kevan.  She sat before her.  “You won’t forget.  But Danu takes care of her own.  If you make this vow, you pledge yourself to the goddess’ service, and she pledges herself to yours.”

“You really believe that?”

Dena scowled.  “I don’t know.  I haven’t seen Ash since I-  Since she-  And maybe that’s the goddess interfering, helping Ash keep her vow.”  She contemplated that a moment, before continuing.  “I hear things, though.  Jo likes to give me updates when she come back from visiting her mother.  Ash is doing so well, Kevan.  I’m sure Jo sugarcoats the truth for me, but she’s obviously proud of her, and I know that’s good news.  They, uh, they didn’t think she was gonna make it, you know.  They thought she was going to, um.  Danu saved her life.  And I can’t be ungrateful, even if I said some pretty awful things when I found out that she’d taken the vow.” 

“I’m not going to kill myself, Dena.”

She smiled.  “Well, that is a relief.  I miss her,” sighed Dena.  “She had no way of knowing I’d come back.  And for all the pain of losing her twice, I can’t complain,” casting her eyes towards Cas, meditating on a stump just outside the farthest ring of firelight.  “I didn’t deserve a second chance, and yet.  Somebody thought I did.”

“The goddess works-“

“If you say ‘in mysterious ways,’ so help me I will kick your ass!”  But she was smiling.  Kevan discovered that she was smiling, too.  “How do you feel?”

“Good.  Really good.  For the first time in a long time.”

“Good.”

“I’d like to speak to Ash before I decide.  Before I tell my mom.  If you think that would be okay.”

“Yeah, that’s smart.  Now go on, go back to bed.”

“Okay.  Hey Dena?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d love if you’d introduce me.”

Dena grinned.  “Me too, kiddo.  Good night.”

 

“Good thing I took the last watch,” she thought.  “No chance I’d sleep now.”  She wallowed in old, cold thoughts until Cas left their stump and wandered over to Dena’s perch by the fire.  They stirred the embers.  Dena roused herself enough to stop them from putting another log on the coals.  “Just a handful of the thicker kindling.  We’re leaving after breakfast.”

This accomplished, Cas sat and draped their arms around Dena.  “You seem troubled.”

“Just thinking, Cas.”  She turned her head and claimed a kiss.  She hadn’t realized how chilly she was until she felt the warm lips on her cheek.  “Mysterious ways.”


End file.
